


I Won't Say It

by spelling_error



Series: I Won't Say I'm In Love [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bottom Steve Rogers, Drunk Sex, M/M, No Dialogue, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Omega Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Top Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25373989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spelling_error/pseuds/spelling_error
Summary: ... It hadn’t mattered what Tony had meant to say, not really.Not when the pale yellow haze that had knocked out Steve in the first place returned to encase Steve’s unconscious form, hiding him from view for way too long.Not when the haze had cleared and the body occupying the Captain America suit had not been the same one there a moment ago.Not when Tony catches his scent.It wasn’t an alpha’s scent.But it was still somehow Steve’s....Part one of the series I Won't Say I'm In Love but could be sort of read on its own. I suggest reading both for the full story though!
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: I Won't Say I'm In Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837513
Comments: 5
Kudos: 83





	I Won't Say It

**Author's Note:**

> Both parts of this series are complimentary to one another, so you sort of need to read both for it to make sense. It wasn't really matter what order you read them in, but I suggest starting here!
> 
> Read the tags! It's not a very happy ending, but it's not horribly tragic either.

Tony wakes alone.

It isn’t new. He’s woken up alone to cold sheets and Steve no where to be found before. It is not the first time, but this time he can still smell Steve on his sheets and he thinks that maybe this time it’s worse.

It starts like this…

Starts with Tony antagonizing Steve, just as he always does.

Starts with it not working.

_You don’t smell like an Alpha, Steve._

Tony knew that an alpha would have bristled at the statement, but he can’t say he was surprised when Steve’s shoulders slumped for a second, as if in relief, before his hackles rose again to tell Tony to fuck off.

Tony didn’t fuck off.

Steve gave up the pretense of the workout Tony was interrupting. His breathing was too hard. He had been sweating, but Tony hadn’t been able to smell any alpha pheromones at all.

There _were_ pheromones coming off him though, Tony had known. Very, very, very faint.

Steve hadn’t reacted poorly to Tony’s proximity either. Tony had taken that as permission and stepped closer. Steve had _closed his eyes_.

An alpha would never, ever close their eyes with another alpha crowding them like this. Tony knew that much.

Steve had worked his jaw. A tell, as was the way his scent changed. He had been about to lie so Tony stopped him.

_You don’t go into rut, Steve. You can’t._

_And I don’t smell right. That it?_

Tony remembers the blue of his eyes then. Bright blue—too blue to be normal. Too blue to be an alpha. They should have been red.

But they weren’t red, so Tony invited Steve into the workshop. Ushered him to the couch in the corner where Tony often slept. Where his scent was the strongest in the Tower.

To his den.

Tony didn’t know if it was psychosomatic or if Steve had really retained biological characteristics of his prior designation. He’s not sure he will ever find out. A lot of it was just behavioural, Tony had always noticed. It made sense. Steve spent twenty-odd years being the polar opposite of an alpha, it was understandable that he’d retain some of those habits.

Habits like immediately curling up on the couch, knees to chest, making himself small.

Steve had got some colour back not long later.

A lot of what Tony had been doing was scientific. A lot of it was because it was Captain America. Most of it was because Tony wants Steve to be _happy_.

Tony hadn’t met many people that weren’t betas at the time. But he could still have said he’d met more than the average alpha, thanks to his lifestyle.

He knew Steve smelt nothing like an alpha and nothing like a beta, but that he instead smelt so very, very faintly s _weet_. It was so, so faint, Tony had thought it might just have been in his head. It was not a hormone cycle, not really. If it had been, Steve would have smelt sticky sweet and like thick melting sugar in Tony’s throat. He hadn’t smelt like that, although Tony knew that was what Steve’s body thought was happening.

He also knew Steve had been steadily relaxing into Tony’s scent, as fifteen minutes after Steve had curled up in a little ball, he had his face pressed into Tony’s pillow and barely had his eyes open.

Another ten minutes and Steve had fallen asleep.

He woke hours later.

_I’m still and alpha._

_I believe that three of the four weeks in a month._

Steve had never gotten horny or desperate, never asked to touch Tony. He had been content to be in Tony’s space and near his scent. By day three, all he smelled like was Tony, and Tony tried not to let that go to his head. It did. But what can you do?

The team were all unbound betas. They couldn’t tell that their alpha leader reeked of their alpha teammate. It had been Tony and Steve’s dirty little secret. It happened every month.

Tony had never minded Steve in the workshop, though. Not for that one weird week a month, or at any other time. He was quiet when he was in Tony’s space. Tony always continued to talk to himself and to Jarvis, and sometimes Steve spoke up or spent some time tidying after Tony and the bots. There had never been any alpha posturing in the lab. They saved that for when it mattered. When the team was around. The lab had always been their safe space. Tony’s safe space. Until it wasn’t.

Steve was not, _not_ an alpha, though. Tony knew Steve was an alpha, but sometimes Steve had done things like say... bring home a beta he found in a park in DC, and Tony would forget. Find himself _wanting_. But he knew they would never work. They were both alphas. So, Tony always tried so hard to keep himself in line, and for the most part it worked.

They would be explosive.

They already were.

Steve was an alpha, a lot of the time.

They didn’t get along.

They didn’t.

Steve always looks so pretty in Tony’s den.

The worst thing was that Tony had never been interested in having a mate and the pack that accompanies such. Never found himself drooling over omegas with pretty bond scars running up and down their shoulders, showing off the number of betas they’ve acquired like jewelry hoping to catch the eye of a wealthy alpha. Statistically, there was no need to think about ever finding a mate. The numbers just weren’t there.

Sure, Tony had instincts that made him attracted to a certain type of man, and sure, Tony was controlling and cold and distant and had next to no pleasant social skills of his own and he had to piggy-back off of Pepper (and then Steve) like alpha’s usually did around people he couldn’t boss around. And sure, Tony was a natural protector and sure, he went into rut sometimes, but it didn’t matter much to him.

He was never interested in finding an omega with a pack for Tony take on and then protect and care for and keep safe with a state-of-the-art security system he personally designed in a state-of-the-art tower he personally designed. It wasn’t his thing. He hadn’t needed a scrawny little homemaker with a bunch of friends taking up space in Tony’s home.

But then there was Steve. And then there was the team and then there was Bucky and Sam and Nat but before that… before that it was just Steve.

And really… what were designations any way?

What made an alpha? Strength and territory? The ability to choose the right mate? Protect a pack?

What made a beta? Loyalty and level-headedness? The ability to work well with others? Be a pack?

What made an omega? Friendliness and duel reproduction? The ability to conceive, impregnate, make fast friends? Build a pack?

Tony started to think it was all meaningless in the face of Steve Rogers.

Still. Two alphas are explosive.

Even when one of those alpha’s was Steve and really, he barely counted.

Tony tried not to think like that though.

But it was _Steve_.

Steve has always been painfully different.

That’s proven when Tony went into rut. Every three months like a normal alpha.

He’d worried about tipping the team off about the differences between Steve and Tony though, so he’d locked himself away in the workshop the best he could.

The best Tony can do could never stand up to Steve Rogers though.

Tony remembers the moment Steve walked into the lab and went from Disappointed-Captain-America, to terrified realization.

Tony’s scent was not only stronger, but it was different from his day-to-day scent. Even if Steve had never scented another alpha in rut, he knew.

He still stayed.

Still let Tony drag him into the lab fully.

Let Tony push him down on the couch there and crawl on top of him.

Let Tony _kiss_ him.

Let Tony scent him.

Let Tony draw little breathless sounds from him.

Let Tony drag a high-pitched whine that sounded too much like the word ‘ _Alpha_ ’ to be coming from Steve’s throat.

Let Tony slot himself into the space between Steve’s spread thighs and rut their clothed cocks together until he makes them both cum.

Tony was aware this was the closest they had come to acknowledging that Steve was not the alpha he pretended to be, and that Tony was fucking ass-over-tea-kettle gone on him.

He was even more aware of this when he wakes up alone.

It’s not the first time Tony has woken up alone when there was someone in his bed the night before. He’s sure it won’t be the last.

_Let’s not talk about it, yeah?_

_Great idea._

And they don’t.

So that is where it started.

It’s not where it ended though.

No, because they do it all over again…

They do it all over again but at least it’s not because Steve forgot himself the second time.

It goes on like this…

Goes on when Tony _doesn’t_ antagonize Steve like he always does.

Goes on with it not working.

Goes on when they did nothing but fight. When Steve over-compensated. When Steve left. When Steve came back.

At least Steve hadn’t left right away, on that first occasion. No, Steve had stayed for a few good weeks of bickering before be left and spent a few good months with Natasha in DC and when they got back, for once Tony had actually thought Steve might have had something to over-compensate for, but he didn’t say anything because Sam was a useful ally even if Steve had brought him home from a park.

He kept it to himself.

He kept to himself.

He was getting tired of keeping it to himself though. It’s not like Steve had cared. He had enough reason to hate Tony no matter what Tony had tried to do to fix things.

Tony had messed up.

But in his defense, it did take two to tango.

Not that Tony would ever think Steve would accept that as an apology.

Tony warred with himself for some time, wondering if he should bother. Wondering if that would have only made it worse.

So, Tony just kept to himself.

Or he had tried to.

There was really only so much to be done when it comes to Steve Rogers though. Only so much one can handle.

Steve had always been reckless. Tony found himself sending his condolences to all those who had ever had to deal with Steve Rogers when he was small and asthmatic a lot over the weeks following his return from DC.

Steve Rogers was a nightmare when he was feeling insecure.

_My decisions in the field are not for you to question!_

_They are when your decisions are suicidal ways to over-compensate for your own god damn problems!_

_…Problems?_

_Wait, no, that’s not what I meant…_

It hadn’t mattered what Tony had meant, not really.

Not when Steve had feinted a moment later even though he had just shaken unconsciousness off to yell at Tony.

Not when the same pale yellow haze that had knocked out Steve in the first place returned to encase Steve’s unconscious form, hiding him from view for way too long.

Not when the haze had cleared and the body occupying the Captain America suit had not been the same one there a moment ago.

_That’s not Steve._

Not when the body groaned peevishly.

_Well that was a delayed reaction._

_Holy shit, you **are** Steve!_

Not when Steve moves to sit up, only to fall immediately back into unconsciousness.

Not when Tony catches his scent.

For a moment, nothing mattered but Steve’s scent.

It wasn’t an alpha’s scent. Wasn’t a beta’s scent.

But it was Steve’s.

Undeniably Steve’s. Tony would know. He had been chasing that not-quite-there scent on Steve for so long, he was practically an expert. Thing is, he was not quite sure what to do with a lung full of it.

He settled to stumble back and grab blindly for the hatch release of the quinjet and jump off the plane.

He settled for beating the team back to the tower and locking himself in the penthouse.

Not the lab. He couldn’t handle the image of the couch where he had Steve laid out underneath him, not when he now had the image of Steve as he was just then in the quinjet burned into his brain.

Looking small.

So, so small.

He settles for pouring himself a drink or three.

That was Steve.

That was his best friend. That was his teammate. That was the guy he rutted up against and who rolls around in Tony’s den and…

It was Steve.

It was just Steve standing there in Tony’s penthouse now, arms crossed and stormy look on his face.

Steve in his typical grandpa clothes, with his typical perfectly combed hair.

Steve who apparently needs glasses with the way he’s squinting at Tony sat at the bar.

_I need a drink. I haven’t gotten drunk since 1941._

_You’ve come to the right place._

It’s just Steve, and that makes this so much harder.

Steve’s scent is strong. Tony can’t tell if that’s because Tony’s just not used to it being real, or if that’s just how Steve is in this tiny body.

Sugar sweet with every shallow breath Tony drags in. Spicy, sharp, and clean peppermint in his lungs.

He looks so small when he pulls himself up and slides onto a barstool.

He really isn’t that tiny. Four or five inches shorter than Tony, and long limbed despite his height.

He looks less fragile now in clothes that fit his smaller frame. The image of Steve dwarfed by the Captain America suit could have been comical if it hadn’t been so terrifying.

He looks warm, alive, solid, and real in a way that Tony’s imagination could never fully have grasped.

_What’ll you have?_

_I defer to your expertise._

Tony’s four drinks in when Steve found him, but it doesn’t take Steve long to catch up.

Doesn’t take long for Steve to move to sitting on the bartop, feet on the stool as he laughs and laughs about Fury’s face when Steve walked out on him. Tony’s has to tilt his head up to see Steve, but he’s used to that, and it’s not like it ever really felt wrong anyway.

Steve’s illuminated by the white light behind him and it makes him all the more unreal.

It doesn’t take long for Tony to want to kiss him.

What was stopping them now? Some sick part of Tony asked. If they could never work out because they were both alphas… maybe, maybe they would work out now. It was a stupid thought. A bad, bad thought. This wasn’t permanent. It couldn’t be. Steve changed designation for a reason. This was temporary.

That was the worst part.

But it got worse from there.

They’re drunk. Both of them. Tony couldn’t have said who was worse off, really. Steve was a lightweight of course, but Tony had a head start and the experience that made getting wasted as hard and fast as possible damn near second nature.

So, Tony strips a layer, rolls up the sleeves of his black long-sleeve and Steve unbuttons a couple of buttons from his own shirt. His scent is everywhere now, released from the stifling collar of his shirt. Steve’s got an undershirt on which is Tony’s saving grace really.

For a while at least.

Another drink, another button.

Soon enough Steve’s shirt is revealing delicate collar bones and the tops of his shoulders.

Revealing a crescent shaped scar.

It’s small, it’s distinct. It’s sitting just below where Steve’s neck meets skinny shoulders.

Steve didn’t have that a few hours ago in his much bigger body.

But Tony had known of its existence. It was hard not to after DC.

It’s not a deep claiming bite a mate would leave. Lacks the width and raised characteristics of an Alpha’s mating bite.

It’s small and shallow, on his shoulder and not his neck.

It’s Barnes’s.

Tony supposes that he knew in that moment that Steve would be gone in the morning. Following the pull of his pack all over the globe, never stopping until he had his beta in his arms.

_When do you leave?_

Steve didn’t bother to answer, and that should have tipped Tony off somehow, but those thoughts somehow fell and clattered dully in the back of his head and his brain hyper focused on _Steve_ and _pack_.

Tony’s brain hyper-focuses because Steve tilts his head innocently to the side and his shirt falls off that shoulder completely.

It’s the only mark there, but Tony knows there might as well be two more alongside it.

He’s always known Steve had a pack once upon a time.

Just never thought he’d see the evidence of it.

Tony has always known about this part of Steve. He just never thought he would see it. That it would be real some day.

It’s not real though. Tony knows that now. It wasn’t real.

It was all so temporary.

Temporary like sobriety. Temporary like laughter. Like seasons. Like the sun. Like the city lights reflecting in Steve’s eyes.

It’s not real.

It’s temporary when Steve slides across the bartop until he swings one leg over Tony’s lap and sits there, staring down at Tony with his feet bracketing his hips.

It’s not real when Tony’s hands grasp Steve’s tiny fucking waist. It’s not real when he pulls Steve into his lap and the other man comes willingly.

It’s not real.

But it feels real.

It feels perfect.

Steve feels perfect in his arms.

Steve feels perfect against his lips.

Steve feels warm and firm and real, his scent is bright across Tony’s nervous system, sweet, sharp, clean and minty and Tony buries his face against the scent gland at Steve’s throat and the smaller man gasps weakly. Steve’s body goes soft, pliant against Tony.

The last button is torn, Tony thinks when he slips Steve’s shirt from his shoulders, his fingertips brushing over every inch of skin revealed as the fabric slides from Steve’s arms and gets trapped between the dip of his back and the edge of the counter.

They slot together perfect, they scent together perfect, they go together perfect.

Tony’s breath stutters when Steve noses at the side of his throat, scenting him back.

Steve is light in his arms and he still has the audacity to feel real there with his legs wrapped around Tony’s hips as he carried them to the bedroom.

He wants to burn himself on the taste of Steve, thinks it might be possible if he tastes as sharp as he smells.

He does.

Tony tastes him from everywhere he can get his mouth. The more he explores the more of that scent Steve gives off until Tony is burying his tongue inside Steve’s slick heat and Steve cums hard and loud and his scent just burns hotter on Tony’s tongue, igniting heat deep in Tony’s bones.

A heat he’s still not sure has gone out.

A heat that only burned brighter when Steve explores Tony’s body next, but with the little sharp points of his teeth, dissecting the scars surrounding the arc reactor with burning peppermint-pink lines.

There are scars on Steve’s body like this. More than just his pack bond.

Over the backs of his hands, on his knuckles. A white line split against his jaw. A tangle of white over his knees. A burn on his wrist.

Tony thinks maybe that’s what makes it feel that much more real.

Makes it real even when Steve does something Tony was sure he could not do and _begs_.

_Tony, Tony, please knot me._

There are so many things that make this all feel real, feel like Steve, all things Tony cannot find on Steve’s other body if he could ever get close enough to look.

Tony really needs to hang on to those things. The realness of Steve when he does what’s been begged of him.

This was Steve underneath him.

Scrappy and rough, now with scars to show it.

This was Steve calling his name.

Demanding and persistent, now with glowing blue eyes to reflect it.

This was Steve exposing the paleness of his skin.

Open and inviting and warm, now with the pack bond that proves it.

This was Steve spreading the creamy white of his thighs.

Sweet and gentle and powerful all at once, and now with the scent that matches it.

Tony does what anyone would do when faced with Steve Rogers and gives him exactly what he wants.

Tony wonders if Steve’s ability to always get his own way stems from his time spent as an alpha… or if it started here.

Steve’s sly little smirks when Tony comes undone for him, the happy little gasps and moans he gives when Tony gives in and ties them together, it all leads him to think it began here.

Began with Steve in this body. He fills this skin so much better, Tony thinks.

They were both drunk, but Tony thinks it’s unlikely either of them will forget any part of this as they both cum together.

Least of all to be forgotten will be the sound of Tony’s voice when he finally lets slip the one word neither of them have dared to say aloud in all the months that equated to years that they have been living together, and spending hormone cycles together, and touching, and scenting, and acknowledging the symptoms without the cause.

_“Omega”._

Was that where it ended? Or is that where it began?

Real, perfect, and temporary. End and beginning.

It all just blurs together.

Blurs like the tears he pretends are not there when he wakes up alone and Steve is _gone_.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. I was drinking while editing so let me know how bad it is.


End file.
